


A Generous Host

by hedgehog_in_221B



Category: Robin Hood (BBC 2006)
Genre: F/M, I Don't Even Know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-04-01 05:32:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4007743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hedgehog_in_221B/pseuds/hedgehog_in_221B
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the reader finds herself without a place to stay for the night, Sir Guy invites her into his home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Generous Host

   Of course it would be your luck to get caught out in the rain late at night and without a horse, no less. The storm had come practically out of nowhere and when the first clap of thunder rumbled through the sky, your horse had taken fright and reared up on its hind legs, throwing you and all your bags off its back before running off into the night. Your bags falling with you was probably the only bit of luck you'd had because it started to pour shortly after and you soon found yourself drenched and trudging along in the mud, lugging them over your shoulders. You cursed that stupid animal and the man who'd sold it to you as your feet sloshed in another unavoidable puddle, your boots ruined at this point. You sighed heavily and shifted the weight on your shoulders. Any dry clothes you had in your bags were soaked for sure in the downpour. Lightning flashed across the sky, lighting your way and highlighting the fact that the roads could be so dark at night, especially without the moon or stars to guide you. As you traveled onward, you began to see the twinkling of torch light up ahead some distance. Your spirits lifted and you walked a little faster, not caring how many puddles you splashed through. Though perhaps you should have watched where you were going because next thing you knew, you tripped and fell face first onto the soggy ground, mud splattering every which way and getting in your hair and on your clothes. You laid there a moment, sighing heavily, as another crack of thunder sounded above you. “Why have you forsaken me, God?” you asked aloud, prying yourself from the mud and shaking it from your person as best you could before picking up your soiled bags and continuing toward the source of the lights. After much sloshing, splashing, and nearly tripping, you found yourself in a small village. You didn't know exactly where you were, which was unfortunate, but you could see a manor house not far away. The household still seemed to be awake judging by the lights. You made a beeline for the building, not wanting to bother any of the villagers at this hour. After all, most of the country was poor and the lower class had hardly enough to keep themselves afloat, much less extra for travelers or passersby. Once at the door, you knocked sharply, hoping that whoever answered would be quick about it. You prayed that the master of this manor would be kind enough to let you stay the night, even if you had to give him a bit of coin for his trouble. There really wasn't anywhere else you could get to at this time of night and the roads were dangerous, especially on foot. The door opened suddenly and you jumped a little, taken off guard and out of your thoughts. Standing in the threshold was a tall man with dark hair and an angry look about him. You cleared your throat and did your best to smile pleasantly. “Good evening. Might I speak to the lord of this manor?” you inquired. The man's expression did not change.

   “I am the lord of this manor. What business do you have here?” he replied. You mentally punched yourself in the face. Why oh why did these things always happen to you?

   “Ah, I see. My apologies. Uh, my business. Yes, well, you see, I was traveling by horse along the main road when my animal took fright and dashed off into the night, leaving me to travel by foot. Then it started to rain and grew very dark and now I'm not quite sure where I am and am in need of a place to stay for the night,” you babbled. He gazed at you a moment longer, his expression unchanging, before he chuckled. You were caught off guard again and you straightened up, putting on a more serious face. “What's so amusing?”you asked, shifting the weight of your bags to your other shoulder. He shook his head.

   “Oh, nothing. You have caught me in a humorous mood tonight. You may stay in my home for the evening, but you'd best be on your way come morning. I don't like having strangers in my house, but I can't very well send you away in the dead of night. I'll have one of the servants prepare a bath for you,” he said, stepping aside and letting you in. You smiled gratefully up at him and stepped inside. The room was warm and toasty due to the fire at the other side and you made a beeline for it, warming yourself by its flames.

   “Thank you for your kindness.” you said, remembering your manners as he shut the door. You paused a moment, realizing that you didn't know this man's name. “Pardon me, but I do not know your name.”

   “Sir Guy of Gisborne,” he responded.

   “Ah. Then I thank you for your hospitality this evening, Sir Guy.” He nodded.

   “There's a room upstairs you can rest in. Goodnight,” he said before hurrying off to go about his business and leaving you on your own. In hardly any time at all, one of the servants came to fetch you for your bath. You followed them through to the bathroom, so grateful for the generosity Sir Guy had shown you. It dawned on you that you'd neglected to give him your name and you mentally scolded yourself for your forgetfulness. Though, in all fairness, he hadn't asked.

   “I'll take those upstairs for you, if you'd like,” the servant said, motioning toward your bags. You smiled and handed them to her, leaving your previous train of thought behind.

   “Yes, thank you. Though everything inside is drenched, I'm sure,” you replied. “I've no idea what I'll wear to bed, but I'll figure something.”

   “Very well. Goodnight,” she said before turning on her heel and leaving you alone. Once the servant had left the room, you began to strip yourself of your wet, muddy clothes. You piled them in a heap next to the tub and sunk in, the water hot, but not too hot. It felt glorious on your chilled skin and you would have liked nothing better than to sit there for eternity. However, you knew the water would grow cold all too soon, so you made quick work of washing your hair and face before relaxing in the tub's warm embrace. After some time, you thought it best to get out. Truthfully, you were awfully tired and sleep sounded better and better as time ticked by. You stood from the bath, the air much cooler than the warm bathwater, and you reached for the robe that had been laid out for you. As soon as you were about to put it on, there was a knock at the door and you quickly wrapped yourself in it.

   “Come in,” you responded, wrapping your arms about your torso and stepping from the bath and onto the chilly floor. Your hair hung in wet tendrils over your shoulders and you shivered slightly, the dampness of your skin making you cold. In came Sir Guy holding a bundle of clothes in his hands. As soon as he laid eyes on you, he immediately turned away and took a few steps back, a subtle blush creeping onto his cheeks. You realized that the robe was clinging to your wet figure in an unseemly manner, but there was nothing to be done about it.

   “Forgive me, my lady. I did not think before I entered,” he mumbled, eyes still averted.

   “You are forgiven, Sir Guy. What was it you needed?” you asked, crossing your arms more tightly across your chest in an attempt to retain some warmth while wearing the thin robe. He cleared his throat and outstretched his arm, the clothes hanging from his hand.

   “One of the servants informed me that all your belongings were soaked from the rain. I said I'd fetch you something to wear since it seemed the proper thing to do, but when I came to give her the clothes to bring to you, she'd gone off,” he said, still not looking at you. You grabbed them from him.

   “Thank you. That is very kind. Though I suppose they'll be a bit big,” you replied, unfolding the shirt and holding it up.

   “Yes, well, there was nothing else to be had,” Sir Guy replied, finally looking at you. He kept his eyes firmly on your face, not straying anywhere else. “I hope you do not mind my bluntness, but I did not think you were a woman when I invited you into my house.” You laughed outright, taking him by surprise and causing a confused look to form on his face.

   “No, I suppose with all that mud and grime on my face, hair, and clothes, you thought me to be a young boy,” you replied, still laughing. He stared at your face, completely at a loss for words and utterly stupefied. Once your laughter had subsided, you regained your composure. “Would me being a woman have caused you to send me away?” you asked. Sir Guy straightened his posture and shook his head, as if warding off unwanted thoughts.

   “No, it would not have,” he said, clearing his throat. “Goodnight.” And with that he was gone. Once alone, you sighed heavily and braced yourself lightly against the tub. Drying off as best you could, you threw the clothes on a hurry. As expected, they were entirely too big. The pants wouldn't even tighten enough to stay on your waist, so you went without. After all, the shirt was long enough; it nearly reached your knees. Exiting the bathroom, you made a run for the stairs on the other side of the room, hoping no one would see you in such a state. It was dark on the second floor of the house. Blindly darting up the stairs, you reached the landing, only to bump into someone in the dark.

   “My apologies! I didn't see you!” you exclaimed, reaching out into the dark and feeling for whomever you'd run into. Your hands grasped a broad chest clad in leather and you cringed inwardly. When had your luck turned so sour? You let go of him almost as quickly as you'd grabbed him, taking a few steps back. “It's you, Sir Guy! I did not mean to run into you. Please, I beg your forgiveness.”

   “No, it's quite alright. I was not looking where I was going. I should be apologizing.”

   “I was the one bounding up the stairs. Really, you have nothing to apologize for.” You eyes had adjusted slightly to the darkness and you saw him nod, clearly at a loss for words. “Goodnight, Sir Guy.”

   “Goodnight,” he said, brushing past you and down the stairs. You thought it a bit odd that he was so active so late at night. Perhaps he found it difficult to sleep with a stranger in his home. Perhaps it was something else. Either way, there wasn't much you could do to remedy the situation, especially if it was the former of the two. There were a few doors on the second floor and it took you a few tries until you found one with all your things. Upon opening the room, you saw that a candle had been lit on the nightstand and that all your clothes had been distributed about the room to dry. You laugh quietly at the sight and entered, closing the door behind you. You snuggled under the bed almost immediately, the mattress more comfortable that you'd thought it would be, though you chocked that up to being as tired as you were. You blew out the candle and nearly as soon as you closed your eyes, you were asleep.

   Guy awoke with a start, a cold sweat coating his body. He instinctively reached for the dagger under his pillow and peered about the room. No one was there. He breathed a sigh of relief and rested his head back against the pillow. He hadn't changed from his clothes the day before, having fallen asleep in them accidentally. Glancing at the shuttered window to his right, he noticed the pale light of dawn. Groaning, he heaved himself out of bed. The floor was cold against his bare feet. “Now where are my boots?” he whispered to himself, looking under the bed and about the room. Guy spotted them by the door in a heap. For the life of him, he didn't remember taking them off there. But, then again, he didn't remember a lot of the things he did before bed. Every night he'd pass out, dog-tired, only to be plagued by nightmares and awoken in a fright. He sat on the edge of the bed and shook his head, trying to rid himself of the remnants of last night's horrors. Once he'd composed himself enough, he took to putting his boots on. Then he went and changed his shirt to one that smelled substantially better. He leaned against the wall, his head back. Guy felt utterly drained but he knew he wouldn't be able to get back to sleep. And even then, it wouldn't be very restful. No, he was much better off staying awake. At least then the nightmares couldn't bother him. He left his room and walked down the hall toward the spare bedroom, intending to see if his guest had left as he'd instructed. Knocking thrice, there came no reply. He pushed the door open and saw that the bed had been remade and that there was no sign that anyone had even been there. _A pity,_ he thought. He frowned slightly, alarmed by his thoughts. What did it matter that they'd up and left? He'd said to be gone by morning. _You don't even know her name, so stop sulking._ He brushed his thoughts away and tried to steer his mind onto more important matters. He had a meeting with the Sheriff later in the morning and some other miscellaneous things to do around Nottingham Castle. It was good that he kept himself busy. It was better for him not to be idle. That only lead to thinking about unpleasant things and bringing up terrible memories. As he descended the stairs, the smells of breakfast wafted up into his nostrils. He inhaled, realizing that he was noticeably hungry. Had he eaten last night? He couldn't remember. Guy shrugged and soon found himself wandering into the kitchen to see what was going on with breakfast and if he could sneak a taste before being shooed away. When he walked in, he was shocked to see the girl from last night amongst the staff, helping them. You looked up as he entered and smiled, wiping your hands on the apron you'd been lent.

   “Good morning, Sir Guy!” you said, walking over to him. He stared quizzically at you. “I know last night you told me to leave by morning, but I wanted to thank you for your hospitality and figured I'd put what cooking skills I have to work. I hope you don't mind. I'll be on my way once everything is finished.” Guy surprised himself when he smiled.

   “Where are you going?” he asked.

   “To Nottingham. I got really turned around last night, but since it's light out, I should be able to find my way.”

   “If you were to stay, I could take you there by horse. I have business in Nottingham.”

   “Again with your generosity! Though I suppose riding would be better than walking. Very well, I shall accept your offer. But I must get back to cooking!” you said, turning around. He reached out and grabbed hold of your wrist.

   “Before you do, will you tell me your name?” You laughed.

   “It seems I've forgotten my manners again. I'm Y/N,” you said. He smiled.

 


End file.
